


Remarkable

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e06 Open Mic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Soft and fluffy post 'Open Mic' feels.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 11
Kudos: 145





	Remarkable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poutini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/gifts).



The last patrons finally headed for the door, their empty glasses discarded on a shelf. Patrick hadn’t seemed to notice when David hid the last bottles of wine which was perfect because he would chide David endlessly. Ronnie might have more drink tickets but he was cutting her off and she would just have to deal with that.

“Okay, thank you, buh-bye,” David said with the false smile he kept for the end of the night or when he ran into Roland and didn’t want to appear too interested. It fell from his face the second the door closed. The main lights flicked off behind him and he breathed out, closing his eyes in relief.

_Finally._

“That went well,” Patrick said, and David had to jump on the smile that started automatically at the sound of his voice.

“People did buy things,” he agreed, turning to watch as Patrick rounded the end of the counter. “Although I suspect the cost of the wine might offset that somewhat.”

“Maybe,” Patrick allowed, his expression amused, eyes on David’s with that calm solid gaze he was growing to love. “But if they come back again, the cost will be worth it.” His eyes gleamed. “Besides, I thought you wanted this to be an immersive experience.”

David cocked his head, privately impressed Patrick remembered their first meeting so well. “I do,” he said. “I’m just not sure allowing every Bob, Sam and Patrick to the microphone is quite the experience I had in mind.”

“Really,” Patrick replied. “I thought everyone liked my song.”

“Not so much your song,” David said, the smile coming through his pressed lips. “But Bob’s beat poetry left a lot to be desired.”

“It was…a work in progress,” Patrick allowed.

“Well I’m just glad we didn’t have that improv troupe show up,” David said.

“Improv troupe?” Patrick repeated with a laugh.

“A personal nightmare,” David assured him. “I draw the line at unscripted joviality.”

Patrick snorted. “That sounds like something your mother would say,” he said, smile challenging.

“Well she was impressed by your song,” David said. “Butter voiced, she told Jocelyn.”

Watching Patrick’s face flush with pleasure made David’s stomach swoop with delight. He was such a modest man he would never seek out praise. David was learning Patrick was far more likely to accept second hand compliments, and he delivered them with satisfaction. The man was entirely unable to realise how remarkable he was.

As David watched Patrick ease closer relief flowed through him. The night was over. It hadn’t been the nightmare he’d imagined, though it would take a lot before he’d admit that to Patrick. Not that he would need to; Patrick had the uncanny ability to see meaning behind David’s carefully constructed answers. In the beginning it had been unsettling, but the more often it happened the more it helped David accept Patrick’s genuine affection for him.

When Patrick stopped close to David they both stood in silence for a few minutes. David was enjoying the quiet after so much noise all day and evening. He wondered if Patrick was doing the same; it seemed counterproductive to break the silence to ask. Either way the moment was perfect for studying the familiar shape of Patrick’s face in the low lighting they’d employed for these post-closing times. It was one of the fascinating things about this relationship, that he continued to be intrigued by Patrick. The initial curiosity had given way to more, a deeper desire to know Patrick in a way he’d never experienced. David’s earlier relationships were based more on proximity, supply and demand, or sex, and the limitations were clearly understood on both sides. This kind of quiet moment would have been uncomfortable, and the gentle smile on Patrick's face would never had been given time to bloom.

_What a waste that would have been._

“Ready to go?” Patrick murmured. He’d agreed to drive David home, but David wasn’t quite ready to leave.

“No,” David said decisively. He almost moved to embrace Patrick right there, but realised people would still be able to see into the store. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say but it would need more privacy than this. Assuming it went well enough that Patrick didn’t just leave. Instead he reached out, taking Patrick’s hand. Ignoring the flash of awareness that bolted up his hand (why did that keep happening, still?), he walked past Patrick, pulling him towards the storeroom.

“What?” Patrick said finally.

It was much darker in here, only the streetlight falling through the stained glass window to compliment the glow around the curtain leading back into the store. David stopped in the middle of the space, thinking for a second before pressing his hands to Patrick’s chest, guiding him back against a tall stack of boxes.

“What?” Patrick asked again, though it was barely a whisper.

“That song,” David started, but he could hear himself tearing up. He stopped, hands still resting on Patrick’s chest. He could feel Patrick draw a deep breath. “That song,” David repeated, and it sounded less like the start of a sentence and more like a complete statement.

“It was good?” Patrick asked quietly.

“Yeah, it was good,” David replied, a half-laugh burbling up. “More than good, Patrick.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Patrick said.

“Thank you,” David whispered, leaning forward to press his lips to Patrick’s. It was entirely insufficient, as far as gratitude went, but it was all he could offer. Genuine human emotion was hardly his area of expertise, and Patrick seemed to have a knack for opening him up to more than he was able to express.

The kiss was slow, Patrick’s hands on David’s waist encouraging him to stay. David felt his fingers curling into fists, his nails scraping down Patrick’s shirt. The shiver rolling through Patrick skittered over David’s skin too; they were so close the reaction was shared between their bodies. David felt his breath catch in his throat. How did a simple kiss still affect him so deeply?

When it finally broke, Patrick’s voice echoed through David’s heart. “You’re welcome.”

It sounded like he wanted to say something else, but David couldn’t tell what. They were still standing close enough for their breath to mingle, the scent of wine heady and exaggerated in the dark. Intimacy of any kind was still something David had to work to find comfortable. Patrick knowing about it made David want to cringe and hide as he always had in the face of such honest emotion. Patrick’s calm hands resting on his waist should have been confining, but it was grounding. In other circumstances David would have bolted, preferably avoiding him for as long as possible; instead he leaned into Patrick’s touch, drawing comfort from Patrick’s calmness.

“How do you know what to say?” David murmured.

“I didn’t say anything,” Patrick replied, his usual amusement playing against the fond tone.

“You didn’t need to,” David said. “Not now. But that song, it was…not nothing. It was,” he breathed deeply, searching for the right words. Why was he so eager to talk all of a sudden? This urge to describe his emotions was deeply disturbing. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean it?” Patrick repeated.

“Please tell me you listened to the lyrics before you sang them to me in front of the whole town,” David said, hoping his tone came off joking. It didn’t quite work, his usual inflection falling flat.

“Of course I did,” Patrick said, fingers tightening on David’s sides. “Every word.”

“Well,” David managed, “I mean, good. Good. That’s good.” He clamped his lips together to stem the flow of essentially identical statements. A deeply ingrained mechanism to cope with his anxiety but with Patrick it felt silly.

Patrick started to shake and David panicked, managing a solid eight out of ten before he realised it was laughing. His

“Patrick Brewer, are you laughing at me?” David asked. His smile was audible and Patrick didn’t need to pull on his hips for him to bury his face in Patrick’s neck. Hiding was ridiculous in the dark but he felt safer here, close to Patrick.

“No,” Patrick replied. “I am in awe of you, David Rose.” He paused. “Do you have a middle name?”

“I don’t think so,” David replied, pressing the words into Patrick’s neck.

“You don’t think so?” Patrick asked. His hands roamed up and down David’s back, clearly enjoying David’s attentions.

“Is it important?” David asked.

“I mean, it might be,” Patrick said. “Eventually.”

“Okay, well I can ask my parents,” David said, “they might know.”

“They _might_ know?”

David sighed, standing up. “Can we not talk about my family right now?”

Patrick grinned. “Of course,” he said. His smile faded a little. “I’m still really glad I decided to invest in your business.”

“Me too,” David whispered.

This time when Patrick kissed him David forgot about the rest of the world. He didn’t need words to explain, and that made Patrick even more remarkable.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/OneBlueUmbrella) or [Tumblr](https://oneblueumbrella.tumblr.com/).


End file.
